For a second, he looked embarrassed. A brief, tiny second. Then the smirk slipped back into place and he tapped his fingers on the bar again. The leashed power behind such a simple gesture sent a shiver down my spine. “Oh, that’s just adorable. You didn’t have to say a thing. I’ve felt you watching me every night.”
He was right. I had been. I had a feeling I’d be watching him more closely from now on. My cheeks heated, so I pushed away from the bar. “You never answered me, Lucky. What are you drinking?”
“Whiskey.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, his eyes narrowing on the screen. “Fuck. Make that a double.”
“Sure thing.” I turned my back to him and prepared his drink, making sure my hands stayed steady the whole time. I’d never let him see how much he affected me. “Bad news, or news that was so good you need to celebrate?”
“Does it matter?” He reached into his pocket and slipped a twenty across the bar. “I’m paying either way.”
I handed him his drink and took the cash. “Nope. Doesn’t matter at all.”
“Thatta girl.” He took a sip of his whiskey and looked over his shoulder. His strong fingers held the glass, but it was clear his attention was elsewhere. “Who are they?”
“Who are who?” I asked, ringing him up and taking his change out of the drawer. “You’ll have to be a little more specific.”
“The guys who have been watching you and whispering since I walked in,” he said, his hard words echoing his rocky accent.
I gave him a slow smile. “Again, you’ll have to be more specific. I’ve been stared at once or twice in my life.”
His eyes slid down my body. My black tank top and shorts, paired with black knee-high boots, suddenly felt as if they’d evaporated into thin air. But instead of giving me some contrived come-on that was supposed to sound original, like all the other guys in this joint, he looked me in the eye and said, “The ones at the table in the left corner. They’re not Steel Row guys.”
I stiffened. Did he not like what he saw? It shouldn’t matter, but it did. “I don’t know. They’ve been acting shady all night.”
“More than shady.” He raised the glass to his lips. “They’re up to something, and it involves you.”
“Well, unfortunately for them, I’m not interested.”
“I don’t think they give a damn if you’re interested or not,” he said, his voice hard. “Do you live upstairs?”
“No. Marco does.” I blew my hair out of my face impatiently. “I live about three blocks down.”
He frowned. “Do you have someone to go home with at night, or do you walk alone?”
“That’s none of your business,” I shot back. “I don’t even know you. You don’t get to go all GI Joe on me.”
His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “That might be so, but I’ve never been one to care about that. And you didn’t answer my question.”
The music seemed to get quieter and the barroom chatter faded as I held his gaze. My fingers tightened on his change.
“You didn’t ask me very nicely.”
“I won’t.” He raised a brow, giving me a look that made his eyes darken. But beneath that scrutiny, there was something else. Concern? No. That couldn’t be right. “Are you walking alone, or no?”
“No.” There was something about him that demanded brutal honesty. “But I can take care of myself.”
He gave me another once-over. My skin heated. Why did he persist in treating me differently than the rest of my customers did? “I’m sure you can.”
“Whatever.” I held his slightly wrinkled money out, but he just stared at it. “Take your change.”
“It’s yours, darlin’.”
God, that accent, those eyes . . . he was trying to kill me. It was a ridiculously high tip, but whatever. If he wanted to throw money at me, I wouldn’t turn him down. I tucked it into the tip jar under the bar and then patted his arm. It was as hard as I’d always imagined. “Thanks, Lucky.”
“I told you . . .” He caught my hand with a firm grip. The sensation of his skin on mine was electrifying. There was no other word for it. I might have been imagining it, but I’d swear he looked surprised, like he felt it, too. “That’s not my name.”
He didn’t have soft hands. They were rough and callused, a man’s hands, and the feel of them was hot. Of course, everything about him was. But I was not a woman who liked to be restrained, and his grip was stronger than I usually allowed. I didn’t try to tug free, not because I didn’t care, but because I didn’t want to seem intimidated. And I wasn’t. “What’s your name, Lucky?”
“Lucas,” he growled, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “My name is Lucas.”
“Well, hi, Lucas.” Leaning in, I stopped when our noses were practically touching. Something sparked in his eyes, something dangerously sexy, but he didn’t react to my proximity in any other way. “Didn’t your mama teach you that it isn’t nice to grab girls without their permission?” He might be bigger than me, but I wouldn’t back down. Call it a Napoleon complex if you must, but he would succumb or I’d die trying.
“My ma doesn’t tell me anything lately. She’s dead,” he said, cocking a brow. From anyone else, it would have sounded sad. From him, it sounded matter-of-fact. His mom was gone, and he’d accepted that. For some reason, that made his words even sadder. “Has been for ten years.”